


Darkspawn Nightmares vs Dirty Dreams

by sartiebodyshots



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Darkspawn Nightmares, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-06-03 00:27:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6589357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sartiebodyshots/pseuds/sartiebodyshots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sereda's darkspawn nightmares cause friction between her and Zevran.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Darkspawn Nightmares vs Dirty Dreams

Zevran hesitates but shakes Sereda awake when she starts to make whimpering noises in her sleep.  He’s watched her and Alistair late at night and early in the morning, discussing something with matching haunted looks on their faces.  That led to him doing a little snooping to discover that something about being a Grey Warden causes them to have vivid nightmares.

Sereda’s eyes snap open and she bolts upright.  Her hand grips his arm, squeezing painfully hard as she looks around.

“Sereda, it’s okay,” Zevran says.  “You’re safe.”

Her grip loosens and she slumps a little.  “What happened?  Why did you wake me up?”

“You were having another darkspawn nightmare,” Zevran says.  

“I know,” Sereda says, voice rough.  She lets go of his arm altogether and rubs her face.  “Y-you shouldn’t wake me up from them.”

“You sounded upset,” Zevran says.

“They’re awful, but I need to see them,” Sereda says, glaring at him and Zevran feels like he’s missed a step walking down a slope.  She didn’t look this upset when he tried to kill her.  “Just in case I see something important.”

“I apologize,” Zevran says.

“You should go,” Sereda says, laying back down on her side so she’s not facing him.  “I’ll probably have more of them, and I don’t want to wake you up again.”

“Of course,” Zevran says stiffly.

Silent as he can be, Zevran slips out of the tent.  He hasn’t slept in his own tent in far too long.  It’s colder than he remembers, curling up in his bedroll alone.  At some point, he got used to having a warm body next to him at night.  Not just any warm body: a compact, redhaired, dwarf-sized warm body that snores slightly and holds his hands tightly, even when asleep.  

This is everything that he’s been taught is wrong, everything that he’s been warned against.  He shouldn’t care that he’s alone, and he most certainly shouldn’t care that  _ she’s  _ alone, left to battle darkspawn even in her dreams.  

The problem is, Zevran saw this coming.  He feels the warm flush of pride when she smiles at him approvingly, the flash of terror when he loses sight of her in the middle of a battle, and the painful beat his heart skips when he sees her safe again.  

Instead of confronting it, he had reasoned that it was all about self-preservation.  Even if he didn’t want to live his life, he didn’t want the Crows to find him or for Sereda to hand him over to them.  That death would be slow and painful.

But Zevran has been lying to himself, which is a poor thing for an assassin to do.  He has an affection for Sereda that no Crow should have for another person.  That he can even feel such things for another person is certainly a surprise to him. 

But perhaps it does not matter.  Judging from how upset she was with him, she may very well send him away.   That could be for the best for both of them, especially her.  She can focus on the task at hand and perhaps find a more suitable lover.  And he can get back to killing and not caring about anything.   

He tries to sleep, but he’s too focused on the sound of Sereda thrashing in her sleep to manage it.

* * *

Sereda feels like the biggest nughumper in Thedas.  She had been so rude to Zevran when he had woken her up, even sent him away.  He’s been keeping his distance from her all day, and she can’t blame him.  There’s no chance to talk as their little band marches towards their next destination, so she keeps shooting him apologetic looks that he doesn’t see.  

They finally stop to make camp for the night, and she looks at where Zevran is setting up his tent- decidedly away from hers.  Any other time, they would have shared a smug look because it would just be for show; he always ends up in her tent these days.  But today, his back remains to her.

Well, if some day she’s going to have to face an archdemon, she should be able to talk to one of the people she cares the most about.  It’s always best to be straightforward, anyway.  Steeling herself, she crosses over to him, clearing her throat to get his attention.

“I was wondering if we could talk,” Sereda says.  “Please.”

Zevran looks like he’s about to refuse for a minute, but then he nods.  “Of course, Warden.”

Not dear Warden, or beautiful Warden, or any of the other ridiculous things he calls her.  It shouldn’t matter to her, but it does.    

Sereda leads him a little away from camp, trying to gauge his mood.  He’s a hard man to read, though, so she doesn’t get anything.

“I’m sorry about last night,” she finally says, looking up at him.  “I was rude, and you were only trying to help.  I shouldn’t have snapped at you, and I certainly shouldn’t have sent you away like that.  Again, I’m sorry, and I understand if you want me to leave you alone.”

His face is still unreadable as he nods slightly.  “Is there a reason why you don’t want to be woken up?”

Sereda struggles with an answer.  There’s some small part of her that thinks it’s a kind of penance for the things she’s done; she can dream but only of horrible things.  That’s not something she wants to talk about with anyone right now.  It’s not the whole answer anyway.

“I don’t want the archdemon to think I’m afraid or running away from it.  And maybe I can learn something useful from the dreams.  It’s worth it; we need every advantage we can get,”  Sereda explains.  

Zevran tilts his head.  “Alistair also receives the same dreams, yes?”

“It’s not fair to make him shoulder that responsibility alone.  Having someone else who has these dreams makes it easier, I think.  Otherwise, it starts to feel like you’re insane,” Sereda says with a sad smile.  “I don’t want to abandon him.”

“You are so very noble,” Zevran says softly.  “Perhaps too noble for your own good.”

Sereda shrugs.  “It’s not about me.”  

Zevran touches her hand lightly, and Sereda inhales sharply.  She’s missed the casual touches between them, even though it hasn’t even been a day.  It’s only been a month or so since they started sharing a tent, but Zevran is just so tactile with her in a way that Sereda isn’t used to.  People don’t casually touch princesses.  

“Perhaps, sometimes, it should be about you,” Zevran says.  “There is no shame in that.”

Sereda wants to tell him all her complicated feelings about duty and her own twisted desire to redeem herself for the death of her brother, even if she can never bring Trian back.  She knows that she can’t lay all that on him, and she doesn’t even know if she can articulate it in a way that anyone else would understand.  

“There is for me,” Sereda says, trying to smile.  “Without the Grey Wardens, I’d be dead.  So what’s a few nightmares?”

“Ah, I will never understand your self-sacrificing nature,” Zevran says.  He looks away from her.  “It seems like such trouble.”

Sereda thinks about all the times that Zevran has put himself between her and darkspawn trying to kill her, even when it would have been safer for him to fall back.  The hits he’s taken for her that he honestly didn’t have to.  It’s not like she would ever order him or any of her companions into extra danger like that.  She suspects that he understands a little more about self-sacrifice than he’d ever admit.

“I’m sorry, again, for being rude to you yesterday,” Sereda says, not sure what else to say.  “I’ll try to be better.  If you’re there in my tent again, I mean.”

“Think nothing of it, my dear Warden,” Zevran says, looking back at her again.  “You are under immense stress, and in the future, I will not wake you up when you are having the darkspawn nightmares.  Other nightmares, however, I make no promises.”

Sereda frowns.  “Zevran, I’m a dwarf.  We don’t dream.  If I have a dream, they’re darkspawn nightmares. Otherwise, I’m just asleep.”

“Really?  I thought that was a myth,” Zevran says.  

“Nope.  The only time I’ve ever been in the Fade is when that demon sent us there.  Honestly, the darkspawn nightmares must not be proper dreams, but something else entirely.  It probably has to do with the Blight itself.  I try not to think about it,” Sereda says.  

“So you have never had a dirty dream?” Zevran asks, sounding aghast.  After Sereda shakes her head no, he makes a tsking sound.  “No wonder you are so tense all the time.”

Sereda scrunches her face up in distaste.  “It sounds terrifying.  Darkspawn nightmares are bad enough.  I don’t want  _ more  _ dreams.”

Dreams are topsider nonsense, in her opinion.

Zevran chuckles.  “Dreams can be wonderful things, my beautiful Warden.  You often figure prominently in my dirty dreams, for example, and I assure you I enjoy those.”

“You wanna tell me about these dreams that I’m a part of?” Sereda asks hesitantly.  She’s not sure if it’s rude to ask about someone else’s dreams.  “Maybe in my tent?  I mean, if you want.  You don’t have to.”

Zevran smiles at her and her stomach swoops.  “I would love to tell you all about my dirty dreams, and to spend more time in your tent.”

Sereda smiles right back at him, slipping her hand in his and leading him back to her tent.  When she lays down beside him to sleep that night, his arms wrap around her and she’s so grateful that he forgave her.

* * *

A few nights later, Sereda twists and whimpers in her sleep, waking Zevran up.  He has to restrain himself from waking her up.  As much as he wants to wake her up, she made it clear that that’s not what she wants.  

He could easily turn around and go back to sleep.  Zevran has fallen asleep in much worse circumstances, not to mention that he does still technically have his own tent.  

Instead, he props himself up on an elbow and watches her.  He strokes her face tenderly, hoping he can provide her with at least a little comfort.  

Time stretches on forever- he has been tortured in ways less agonizing- but her eyes finally open.  There’s a terror there that he’s not used to seeing on her face, not even in the middle of battle while facing down dozens of darkspawn.

“You are safe,” Zevran says softly.  “We are in your tent.”

Sereda leans into his touch, nodding.  “Sorry for waking you up.”

“My dear Warden, I had already woken up from the most delightful dream,” Zevran lies.  

“Yeah?” Sereda says.  There’s a sleepy smile on her face as she looks up at him.  “It was good?”

“I had a very good dream, my dear Warden,” Zevran assures her.  

Sereda hums happily.  She seems so content now that she knows that Zevran had a good dream.  It almost makes him feel bad about lying to her about it.

“Tell me about it?” Sereda asks in a small voice.  

“Of course,” Zevran says.  She has been so transfixed by his descriptions of his dreams these past few days that he can’t imagine any other answer.  “Close your eyes and go back to sleep.”

Sereda nods a little, eyes sliding shut as Zevran concocts a wild tale.  It’s mostly nonsense, but he doesn’t think Sereda is going to remember any of this in the morning.  

She looks more relaxed than she has in a while as she starts to drift back to sleep.  There’s a warm fire kindled right in his chest as he realizes that he helped her feel that relaxed.  

* * *

“I’ve come to a conclusion,” Sereda says, voice gummy from still being half asleep.  

She reaches for Zevran, pulling herself closer to him on sheer instinct.  He’s so warm that she wants to curl up with him for a long, long time, and with her head on her chest, she can hear the soothing sound of his heart beating.

“What?” Zevran also sounds like he’s still asleep.  

“I like your dreams.  Not just topsider nonsense,” Sereda murmurs.  

Zevran chuckles beneath her.  “I am glad, dear Warden.”

His heart starts beating faster, and she’s too sleepy to figure out what that means.


End file.
